


danger gleams like sunshine to a brave man's eyes

by goabani



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hanzo doesn't know how to handle feelings, Happy Ending, M/M, McCree catches feelings, Resolved Crush, Slow Burn, Surprise Kissing, Unrequited Love, Vampire McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-11-07 04:09:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11051037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goabani/pseuds/goabani
Summary: Everything was fine and dandy when Hanzo Shimada successfully located McCree on a recovery mission. But it's just his luck when both of their comms are down and they are stuck in the middle of no where on some farmland in Nebraska. And to make it worse, Hanzo is stuck with a rather hungry vampire.





	1. Chapter 1

Three, maybe four miles from the closest village and most definitely more than fifteen away from the retrieval point, Hanzo was as good as lost in the woods when he spotted a shabby barn in an open field. He grumbled as he fumbled and pushed through the heavy bramble of the treeline. If it hadn’t been for the goodfornothing Talon agents swarming the small village he was searching, he wouldn’t have been stuck in the same damn stretch of woods he had been for the tail end of three hours.

And it was all for McCree.

Hanzo was part of a five man recovery team for Agent McCree after Winston and Athena lost all communication with him during a stakeout. That was a little over a week ago, and the gunslinger was already on his mission for a week on top of that. They had faith that he could hold out until help arrived. It wasn’t looking so good for him now, but Hanzo was determined to come back with body or boy.

They had each chosen five different locations to search through before reporting back by the end of the week, and Hanzo had gotten dropped off in Omaha, Nebraska, and of all places, right along a lonely stretch of old, unused farmland.

Promising.

The only possible upsides to the whole mission was the little beacon of hope that was revolver casings (that could’ve belonged to any old revolver) alongside an old dirt road leading to these dreaded woods and the old barn he had discovered, a decent place to sleep that wasn’t a damn tree.

Thankfully, the tall corn stalks offered plenty of cover if he had been followed at all as he made his way through the field. What little corn left from the woodland animals was being scavenged by crows and field mice, so it was hardly possible the land would be able to feed a full grown man, Hanzo concluded grimly when he finally met the doors to the barn.

Luckily, they were old and wearing off the hinges, as the loud grating of the rusty metal protesting the usage. Already out of precaution, he had an arrow at the ready as he pushed past the grandiose doors. And just to be safe, he went the extra mile to retrieve a sonar arrow from his quiver and drop it arrowhead down to reveal the interior of the barn. The barn itself was  _ huge _ , and he found himself having to tilt his head up to seeing the furthermost corner of the ceiling about twenty feet above him. The roof was crumbling in at some places, and the hayloft was spacious with a suspicious ladder easing his eyes along their journey to take in the ground level. It was mainly just hay bales and an old tractor, sitting broken down and useless.

Just as Hanzo was about to settle in for the night, a shuffle had him nocking his arrow in the Stormbow and aiming skyward. Of course- it hadn’t occurred to him to check the rafters, he ground his teeth as he mentally berated himself. The bulky figure froze at once before it’s shoulders drooped with a clank of metal. It also occurred to Hanzo that the stranger had the drop on him, per se, and yet they hadn’t done anything more than watch.

“Hanners…?” The low rumble of the voice caught Hanzo off guard, as well as the friendly pet name. Hanzo relaxed the arrow and straightened as the shadow turned itself to face him. It’s been long enough that he doesn’t recognize the voice at first. Hanzo sighs and lets himself grin a little to himself, relief filling him as he relocates his arrow to his quiver.

“McCree! You startled me,” he doesn’t quite let go of the fletching yet, “but how did you know it was me?” McCree laughed to himself, a hoarse wheeze before he cleared his throat with a rather painful sounding cough, making Hanzo grimace.

“Lucky guess?” Hanzo took it for what it was, and set about settling in for the night. He had quickly found a clean enough workbench for his personal belongings and began unpacking any medical supplies he might need. But considering McCree was in the damn rafters, he can’t be too hurt if at all.

“Are you injured?” Hanzo starts as he grabs the gauze and disinfectant. McCree can be heard shuffling about, legs swinging over the rafters as he turns to look at the archer below him.

“Naw.” Hanzo hums, surprised at the outcome but not at all upset about it. All the better.

“Join me, you must be hungry.” Hanzo invites, trying to put a little cheer in his tone when McCree chuckles again, making Hanzo turn around. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t for the life in him see what was funny about that.

“Naw, I’m good, honey.” Hanzo narrows his eyes at the gunslinger, feeling a little uncomfortable. He can’t get a good look at him as he is silhouetted in the moonlight, but that is most certainly McCree with his silly hat and inherently broad shoulders. He sighs as he removes the quiver from his person and makes his way to stand underneath McCree.

“Would you allow me to check you over?” Hanzo’s voice is anything but a polite request, and McCree can tell he’s getting suspicious and fast. Better to indulge and go back to hiding when he’s done before he shoots an arrow through his hide.

“Yeah- sure, gimme a minute.” McCree grunts as he drops with a hollow thud onto the loft under the rafters, before taking a moment to ease himself down onto the dusty floorboards in front of the archer. When he finally faces Hanzo, his hat is delicately tilted to cover his eyes like an awkward teenager.

“On second thought, ‘m good-” McCree blurts out, finding the inspection the least of his problems as he sucks in a breath. He makes a move to retreat when Hanzo catches him.

“McCree.” Hanzo asserts as he catches McCree by the wrist just above his glove. Mccree’s breath escapes him in a whoosh as he watches Hanzo’s brows knit together in concern and confusion. He can clearly feel how warm he is in contrast to the gunslinger’s chilled skin- just the brief contact between them giving his whole arm goosebumps. McCree tears himself away and scrambles for the safety of the loft before Hanzo could snap out of his stupor.

“I’m peachy!” He reassures. Hanzo isn’t buying it for a second. He was too concerned about his wellbeing then these silly games.

“Now is not the time to be playing hard to get, McCree.”

“Hold up now, I’m- what?”

“Get down here.”

“I think ‘m good, sugar.” Hanzo easily lifts himself onto the loft in pursuit and backs McCree in the far corner, overshadowed by a stack of hay bales and a wooden support beam that McCree bumps into.

“You are not ‘peachy’ nor ‘good’, Jesse McCree.” Hanzo reinforces, lunging for the gunslinger and catching him by the serape in the instance he tried to flee again. In a short scuffle in the corner, Hanzo had ended up smooshing the damned cowboy hat over his messy locks before altogether stealing it when McCree retaliated with a half-hearted shove. Mid snarl, Hanzo froze when they locked eyes. What met Hanzo’s gentle charcoal was stark crimson as McCree pulled his head back and squashed himself further into the corner in a panic. 

“Darli-n…” McCree keened, all out hyperventilating. His mouth was slightly agape as his tongue lolled out and his honest to god fangs glinted in the pale moonlight. Hanzo staggered back slowly in disbelief, the gunslinger’s hat still firmly clutched in his fists. McCree’s eyes were wide open and in an absolute frenzy, skipping over Hanzo’s features before they darted about, searching for possible escape routes.

“What.. how are you…?” Hanzo couldn’t finish his half-formed thought before McCree put some real strength behind it and shoved him down onto the unforgiving hay bales beneath the loft. He groaned when he landed, grateful enough that McCree had half the mind to go for the hay and it was only his back that suffered the brunt of the fall with a bruise. By the time he had gotten himself into a sitting position and was looking about, McCree had miraculously scaled the wall in his state of hysteria and was once again perched atop the rafters; he was a solid fifteen feet above his head. 

Hanzo could only watch as the poor gunslinger wound himself down. Easing himself into a crouching position, a shaky hand gradually came up to sweep over his sweaty face and through his tangles of hair while his breathing began to even out. And then he was giving Hanzo an apologetic look of all things.

“Aw shit, honey. They didn’t tell ya?” McCree rasped before he collapsed into a sitting position.

“Now don’t go bein’ too surprised.” McCree tittered as he watches Hanzo like an owl, slowly picking and dusting himself off. He has all but lost the air of suspicion and simply stares back at him. McCree eventually ducks to avoid making eye contact any longer when seconds stretched to minutes of staring in absolute silence. Finally Hanzo spun around with a hint of shame for being so inconsiderate and just staring like that, hat to his chest in the hand that wasn’t curled into a fist by his side.

“No... No, they didn’t inform me of this.” He admitted as he idly stalked over to the worktable and set the hat down with his own belongings without thinking.

“You… You good knowin’ this?” McCree murmured, crickets and tree frogs almost drowning him out with how gentle it was spoken. Hanzo was silent for a good, long moment. Long enough to make McCree genuinely worry. True, he was still digesting this new information before he made up his mind and spun on his heels.

“I have become fond of a certain talking gorilla from the moon. I am fine with this, McCree.” Hanzo joked, actually letting himself grin even just a tad bit at his own sass. McCree himself cracked a smile at that, relief flooding through him like the clouds parting for the stars.

“Good- great! Now, what was it you were saying ‘bout me playin’ ‘hard to get’ with ya?”

“I didn’t feel like dealing with your gay panic.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hanzo wakes up in the seat of the tractor; neck and back still aching from the fall the previous day- and to add to the already wonderful morning, McCree was nowhere to be seen. At first Hanzo freaks out, startling to his feet when he doesn’t immediately see him with a quick scan at the level he was. Then as he clambers down from the tractor with body still half-asleep on him, he spins and spots the gunslinger camping out in the corner farthest from him. He was practically bathing in the minimal shadows available where sunlight didn’t leak through the open roofing in the rundown barn. 

“Mornin’.” It appeared to him at first that McCree was simply sleeping the day away when he had woken him, momentarily relaxing and leaning back against the tractor to let his body catch up to the early morning panic. But then, of course, that wasn’t the case. He continues to watch helplessly as McCree shudders quite violently and curls in on himself for just a moment, and he’s certain can hear the sound of wood cracking and splintering under McCree’s gloved hand. He must’ve been at it for awhile, as the beam was heavily damaged (more than it was the previous night) and was folding in on itself under the immense weight of the structure. McCree must’ve heard him shuffle about, as he called over his shoulder the moment Hanzo had a foot placed in front of the other.

“Don’t be comin’ over here, now.” McCree advises, his voice cracking. Hanzo doesn’t catch on and ignores him, wearily approaching the gunslinger like he was a wounded animal. Just a few feet from him, McCree groans like he’s in real pain- his voice coming through strained and thick with accent.

“Y’er gonna be the damn end’a me.” Hanzo freezes and straightens when McCree takes a shallow breath, trying his hardest not to get a decent lungful.

“McCree, are you… alright?” Hanzo tries once more before taking another step, being downright stubborn and wanting so badly to reach out for him when McCree’s grip on the poor support beam almost breaks it.

“Naw, I ain’t. I really ain’t, honey.” McCree’s voice is borderline tortured, and he slumps against the damaged beam with a hiss. Hanzo retracts his hand and simply stays frozen for an awkward beat, finally getting it in his head that McCree isn’t wanting the archer near him. So down onto his knees he goes, a justifiably safe and respectful distance away. McCree visibly flinches at the sound of the metal guards of Hanzo’s knees hitting the floor, and Hanzo feels a twinge of pity.

“Ya smell so damn good.” McCree hums after he takes in a deep breath at last. Initially, Hanzo was relieved until the words sank in. He does a double take at that, confused and almost flattered.

“Don’t got shit in ya like them talon agents.” McCree rambles as he pushes himself up and gets to turning around.  Hanzo’s brows knit together at the sight of him, pale faced and sleep-deprived from the looks of it. It hits him just like that. He’s right for the most part. Talon gambles pretty heavily with biological experiments on their agents. For their abilities and strengths to make them ‘better and stronger.’ He can’t imagine any of those serums taste any good. Along with that, Angela made it imperative that they retrieve him as soon as possible considering the timeframe he was already out here. McCree most definitely hasn’t encountered anybody in at most three weeks that wasn’t a Talon operative. Hanzo’s heart sunk to his stomach, realizing what that meant. Mccree would have to feed sometime soon, or he might perish before evac comes for the both of them. Hanzo’s hands fidget in his lap anxiously as he watches the gunslinger turn back around.

“Terrible thing ‘bout sunshine, it shows the dirt.” McCree jests, finding it in him to make a joke at the expense of his circumstances- and about his appearance of everything.

“Do... you need to-”  
“Don’t want to, honey.” McCree interrupted with an earnest answer, sighing and leaning his head back into the beam like it’d lessen the pounding migraine. Hanzo shut his eyes for a moment, a half ditched attempt to stop himself from shedding a tear out of pure frustration. They were running out of options. McCree’s com was destroyed a little over a week ago and Hanzo wasn’t getting anything back from base no matter how often he tried. McCree has been hidden for over a week and he was absolutely starving, but he doesn’t want to feed in front of (if they ever got anything) or _off_ Hanzo, but his time was running out.

“Y’er com, sugar.” McCree gently informed, Hanzo having been unable to hear the low humming of the com near his belongings when he was so lost in thought. He scrambled to his feet and made his way over to his items and finding the communicator underneath his hat. No wonder he didn't hear it. He stole a knowing glance at McCree before slipping the com in his ear and making his way outside to pace without disturbing the gunslinger.

What Hanzo got was hardly promising, but it meant that they might be able to pick up something he may say. The only certain thing he could make out was that it was Angela on loop.

“If… McCree-” a burst of static. “Careful… lose control.” Hanzo swallowed nervously, a lump in his throat forming as the message arranged itself in his mind in a meaningful message. McCree was most definitely hungry, already established- and Hanzo needed to play it safe with this. He found a suitable spot of the barn to rest against as he contemplated his words carefully.

“I have located Agent McCree, uninjured but quite… hungry. Sending location.” The archer didn’t very much like using that word, he found, as it left a bad taste in his mouth. He felt as though he was likening his fellow agent to an animal. Voice a little raspier than he had wished for it to have been, he sent the looping message back before simply sliding down the wall of the barn. It was midday, loathe to mention high noon as he squinted through the rows of corn in either direction- just to be safe as one could never know. Easing into a more comfortable position, he rested his chin atop his crossed arms and let the sun soak in. A question popped into his head he’d have to ask McCree sometime.

By the time Hanzo had made his way back into the secure darkness of the shared barn, McCree was most definitely fast asleep. Having collapsed against the wall this time, Hanzo couldn’t help but stop and take in the somewhat peaceful look he had. The laugh-lines smoothed out and his crows feet gone, Hanzo smiled with an appreciative sigh and set the com back down. Truly a sight for sore eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm shite at uploading on the regular but its comin


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A streak of bad luck can make anyone a little unpredictable.

Despite the rather adamant sunlight filtering in through the porous roof, it lasted about five more hours until the winds pulled in some thunderclouds and it began to rain. Luckily, Hanzo had half the mind to throw a tarp over their collected belongings before it got too bad, both men reduced to huddling in the driest corner they could find.

“McCree, will you allow me to check you now?” Hanzo asks softly over the dull hum of the storm. It had been a day and a half since the… ‘discovery’ and Hanzo has grown much more comfortable around him, as he hoped the other did towards him. McCree was tucked further into the corner and turned inwards, possibly in an attempt to sleep. He shifts, uncurling himself with a groan of pain as his knees pop.

“‘M gettin’ old,” he jokes. An awkward beat passes between the two of them before he clears his throat, “Yeah. I’ll letcha this time.” Hanzo cracks a smile at the minor victory and scoots forward, patient as McCree gets comfortable enough to be looked over. Sitting upright with his legs clumsily folded, he finally let the archer get closer to him. McCree had long since removed his armor and was simply dressed in his normal chaps and flannel, Hanzo ever grateful he didn’t have to wrestle the gunslinger out of his gear. First off, he starts by ever-so-gently cupping McCree’s scruffy jaw in his palms and tilting his head up so he can see his eyes. He can already see the purple setting in underneath of them, most definitely from the lack of sleep and the fact that they were slightly sunken in. McCree didn’t tug his head away, but averted his eyes whenever Hanzo tried to make contact.

Hanzo was a little hesitant on checking his pulse, and rightfully so. It was much  _ much _ slower than usual, but due to the circumstances at hand, he didn’t really have anything to go off of for a reference point. Angela would be better suited for this, he tells himself as his hands start on unbuttoning his flannel. McCree doesn’t seem to be paying attention to really anything when Hanzo glances up- not that it bothered him. He uses what scarce lighting he can to look over McCree’s person, finding the gunslinger relatively clean of any wounds save for a few scratches and bruises on his ribs (from sleeping on the scratchy wood of the rafters).

“Tells ya I’m fine,” McCree gloats, gracing Hanzo with a smirk that appeared way too obscene to be the lighting, but he has no time to spare a thought about it before the screech of the door hinges startled both the agents. There was no doubt that the wind wasn’t the culprit. In an instant, Hanzo’s instincts kicked in and was immediately flattening himself into the corner, hand clapped over McCree’s mouth to silence the exclamation bubbling to the surface. He could see the gunslinger shoot him a red-faced glare before he perked up at the sound of steps just ten feet away from where they are. They were light, knowing how to conceal themselves but uncoordinated and skittish. And then it came, the awkward moment when he realised the intruder wasn’t your normal two legged Joe Smoe.

McCree’s brows furrowed after a second and he tried to jerk his face away from Hanzo’s hand, which only made the archer practically smother him with his lithe body. Now was not the time for bullshit, McCree could rightly tell a man from a four legged woodland critter. He let out an angry huff against his open palm, and that seemed to get the point across- to an extent.

“Sugar, ‘s jus’a buck.” McCree mumbles around the obstruction, knowing that only he was able to hear the distinct sounds of hooves dancing across the floorboards. Yet Hanzo still doesn’t budge from where he is and doesn’t spare him a glance, wedged up close and personal between McCree’s legs with a hand still clamped over his mouth. Starting to get annoyed and a little woozy from the pure scent of salt on skin, he carefully mouths at the hand in a warning to get off. At last, Hanzo moves his hand away from his fang-filled mouth and McCree can breathe again. Hanzo actually meets McCree’s narrowed eyes with a hardened edge in those swirling dark depths of his own. While he had eased some tension from his body, he still cornered McCree like a big cat, ready to pounce at any move. 

“Hanzo, we’re fine-” He tries to reiterate before there is yet another thing over his lips. The sound he made certainly spooked the deer, as the prominent clattering of hooves rang as loud as gunshots in the near silent barn.

Gloating about how Hanzo got scared by a lonely little deer wasn’t nearly as important anymore, the archer deepening the kiss with a tilt of his head. McCree, stunned into submission, could only whimper helplessly and pant against Hanzo’s lips. Of all things to be doing, Hanzo found it in him to make this a top priority. Having a hunger for something else, Hanzo made it known when their bodies came together and he growled, predatory and deep in his chest like he was claiming what was rightfully his. McCree groped around blindly before his hands found his biceps, the overpowering smell of Hanzo flooding his every sense- sweaty and musky and  _ delicious _ and it stirred up something fierce inside McCree.

In one final act mustering up what little control he had left, McCree used the grasp he had on Hanzo and practically throw him off his body the moment he felt his tongue dance along his. No one needed their tongue bitten off today and McCree, for one, was grateful for the distance as the archer landed on his rump a foot or two away. Hanzo had the audacity to look hurt for a moment before his whole tone shifted. If the distance McCree had quite abruptly put between them wasn’t a wake up call, his appearance most certainly was. He was the spitting image of what’d you think of when someone mentioned a vampire. The fangs once tucked away now wholly out in the open and peeking out of his mouth as he fought for breath. Skin lacking almost any and all color it previously held, unsaturated and ashy. Pupils were blown wide enough to cover nearly all of the striking scarlet of his eyes, so steadily trained on Hanzo’s own it unnerved him.

The realization of what his actions has done was grounding, Hanzo settling back with a somber look. The muscle of his jaw flexed as though he was going to attempt to articulate a thought of his before his shoulders dropped and he had to look off to the side to stop himself from crying. How the  _ hell _ could he even fuck up that badly? His nails dug into his palms until it stung, reprehending himself for doing such a thing as taking advantage of McCree- and all for a frivolous crush!

“Please?” McCree rasped, his voice wavering terribly. He was now kneeling before him like a beggar, his forehead beading with sweat as he fought to maintain what little resolve he had left. Hanzo blinked at him, having been stolen from his thoughts not immediately understanding what he would still want from him. Then it clicked, the light flickering to life behind his eyes as it all made sense. And he found himself saying that he was simply obligated to do this because of the desire he had used McCree’s trust to gain. 

But in the impractical way reality was, McCree still had manners even when asking to drink your blood.

“Alright.” The moment Hanzo had given the gunslinger any indication of the go-ahead, McCree was quite literally lunging for him. McCree clambered onto his lap within seconds, making it almost comedically clear he wasn’t planning on moving anytime soon with an indignant noise of protest when Hanzo tried adjust his legs. In any other situation, Hanzo would’ve been giddy as a schoolboy at having the gunslinger in his lap if it weren’t for the fact that a liter or two of blood was about to go missing. Nervously, Hanzo let the other do as he wished, trying to ease the nest of butterflies in his stomach as he became hyperaware of every move McCree made. His ungloved hand came to cradle his cheek, almost affectionately if Hanzo believed hard enough. The fingers twitched as McCree faltered at the juncture his neck, mouth hanging wide open and drooling at the prospect of sinking into Hanzo’s flesh but not doing anything more. At this rate the suspense was going to kill him before anything else did. 

“Don’t go thinkin’ ya gotta be doin’ this for l’il ol’ me,” McCree whispered into his neck, lips brushing his skin and making Hanzo shiver all over from the scrape of his unruly beard.

“I will be alright,” Hanzo rumbled as reassurance to both of them, nerves making him twitchy as a hare as he brought his fidgeting hand up to tangle in the wild mess McCree called his hair.

“I can last, promise,” McCree tries for a rather blatant lie, his hand slipping back far enough to be tickled by the graying hairs fanning over his ear. Hanzo could feel the guilt and hesitance radiating off the gunslinger in waves potent enough to make him anxious, but he persists for the better well being of this man- his mission, his colleague, and his closest friend. 

“Jesse, I insist,” Hanzo says with a sigh, one of a mixture between relief that McCree gives in and fear because he has done so. He allows McCree to work at his own pace, the very last thing he wanted to do was disrupt a very versatile vampire in his arms. Hanzo made a mental note to remember that McCree liked when someone played with his hair, even if it was only for his feeding periods. He seemed to relax at the gentle sweep of his fingers through his hair, pressing a searing kiss against Hanzo’s skin in a sign of gratitude before sinking his fangs in.

His teeth felt like old-fashioned syringes sinking into his jugular, body spasming without his control as McCree began to feed. Painful wouldn’t necessarily be the correct word to describe it, as it had an exponential factor to it. The initial puncture was uncomfortable and stung more than an angry honeybee, but the feeding itself was… not  _ that _ bad. The occasional tick that made his breathing hitch or his toes curl reflexively, and it ached more and more as it continued. But it was exceptionally less excruciating than what he thought he had to undergo. 

When McCree had finished, Hanzo’s vision was darkening around the edges, hardly registering the accidental scrape of his fangs along his skin or the lickerish sigh from the gunslinger. His head lolled forward, a twinge of stabbing pain in his neck from holding the position for too long made him wince. McCree was peering down at him with soft doe-brown eyes, fretting over Hanzo with quick little flicks from his eyes to his neck and onward. The tables have turned quite drastically, as the archer was now a sickly pale in stark contrast to McCree’s tanned skin, cheeks flushed and rosy.

“You look good,” Hanzo drones, all but unresponsive as McCree shuffled about trying to make a decent spread for him to rest on.

“Thank ya, honey,” the gunslinger says, loud enough to be heard over the crinkling of the tarp. That quiver has gone through worse, a light rain wouldn’t destroy it. That doesn’t stop him from selfishly locating his hat under the workbench in the little room there was.

“You felt good in my lap,” Hanzo continues on without a hitch, squeezing his eyes shut at the impending migraine he could feel coming on. McCree falters in the middle of folding the tarp over, hesitant to acknowledge the remark with an answer.

“Did I really? I didn’t think feedin’ was all that swell,” the gunslinger admits, giving his chin an idle itch before he finishes the final fold in the makeshift pillow. Returning to Hanzo’s side, he helps the archer down into the nest of straw they had made as a barrier from the dirty barn floor in hours previous.

“Hmm,” he hums when he snuggles the ‘pillow’ McCree offered him into the crook of his arm, “You should sit on me again.”

_ Oh. _  McCree freezes as he feels the heat creep onto his cheeks. __ That’s what Hanzo meant by saying he felt ‘good in his lap.’

“Ah-” McCree swallows thickly as he blushes a shade redder, “Not right now, darlin’.”

“Fine.” McCree barely catches the single word caught on the end of his breath, a smile tugging his lips when he could hear the grumbling about the wait. He releases the breath of his own that he found himself holding when he recognized the steady rise and call of his sleeping body.  Figuring that he better make himself of some use after mooching off Hanzo, McCree set about trying to create a suitable water catcher. After a good ten to twenty minutes of scouring the barn for materials, all he had to show for it was a second tarp littered with holes and a busted, antique powder keg. On top of all that, it took twice as long trying to set it up properly to get the cleanest water possible that was tainted with the residue of gunpowder.

McCree wouldn’t deny it (maybe say it was something else), but he would find himself staring at the body dozing off in the corner every other minute. Just wanted to make sure he was still breathing, or that he was still sleeping- or wanted to make sure he didn’t bleed out  _ while  _ he was sleeping.  He found himself huddling close soon after he had finished his work; his best attempt to provide what warmth he had to the archer, content on waiting out the rest of the rain with his thoughts for company. About an hour into silence and the soft patter of the dying storm, he laughs alone to himself, sweeping a hand over his jaw 

“Can kill a man without breakin’ a sweat, but he  _ cannot  _ control his crush.” The barn lapses into silence for a couple moments before he sighs and steals a glance at the tranquil look on Hanzo’s face. “Reckon you got me like a long-tailed cat in a room of rockin’ chairs. I don’t think I can either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @paige >;3c


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes an old friend's voice can brighten those dark moments, McCree finds; and even when things seem said and done, something still hangs over Hanzo's head.

Fur tickled his neck as McCree picks his way through the brambles and thistles along the forest floor. The heavy scent of the two hares’ blood masks his own musk, he discovers, and considers himself a walking target as he steps into a little meadow. Just half a week out in the stretch of farmland, he’s seen his fair share of predators; from wolves and coyotes to Talon agents with canine units. But if he had to guess, something was off about those dogs as well.

If he had to, he’d even bet that his sense of smell was better than the genetic mutts in Talon- but that might be feeding his ego a bit too much, as he was already pretty proud of finding the two rabbits in a wet forest.  _ Maybe Hanzo will think it’s cool. _

Yet before he could follow that train of thought, he startles at the sharp chime of the communicator. Digging in his pocket, he fumbled the mic out of shock as he puts it in the shell of his ear and gives it a solitary tap. The sweet yet urgent voice that greeted him soothed some of his frayed nerves.

“Hanzo, we just received-”

“Wrong one, doc.”

“McCree! Where is Hanzo?” despite the initial relief in her voice she starts to sound hesitant when asking, and McCree feels a twinge of hurt at the indication. He was hoping the crew back at base had a little more faith in him, but he couldn’t find it in him to be all too upset at Angela.

“He’s resting, I’m a little ways away from the barn we’re cooped up in,” he goes on to explain as he tries not to let the words sound too clipped, “and I’ve got us a couple hares for when he wakes up.”

“Did something happen to him…?” McCree grinds his teeth, trying to find the right words to explain the events previous to Hanzo’s unconsciousness.

“I… uh-” he sucks in a sharp breath and holds out for a second before he warns her, “Don’t go jumpin’ to conclusions.”

“What did you do?” The words were soft-spoken yet accusing all the same, having to slow to a stop to think straight. Can’t blame her, he reminds himself. Getting upset at her won’t make you feel better about what you’ve done.

“I fucked up real bad, Angie.”

“Jesse.”

“I fed from him. I fed from Hanzo,” he sighs, finding a little comfort in petting the rabbits’ fur.

“Was that all? You said he was resting, I cannot image that-”

“That’s not the point, Angie! Do you know how long it’s been since I fed from someone?” McCree strains, catching himself as he tries to articulate his frustration with a gesture for no one. On the other end, Angela goes quiet and he could hear her clicking a pen against her desk.

“I am not sure, to be honest with you. You have been on the Overwatch care system for so long, even before the recall I had to keep in touch with you. Which was a pain in the ass even if you weren’t moving around,” she chuckles and sets the pen to the side, “as you cannot exactly mail bags of blood without a second thought.” Angela tosses in the extra bit of humor as an attempt to lighten the conversation, but the tension eases from his shoulders only by a fraction; nonetheless a valiant attempt.

“Should’ve said something ‘bout that,” he say in exasperation, “and I would’ve hung around your area more. Didn’t mean to be such a thorn in your side for what, six years?”

“Seven and still counting.”

“Now that’s just mean,” McCree says, “I feel like a big ol’ porcupine now.” He hears Angela scoff and practically see the little smile on her face as she rolls her eyes. A pang of yearning echoes through his chest, remembering just how long he’s been stuck out here without the familiar faces he has been so used. But then again, it wasn’t supposed to be this way, and the crew back home certainly didn’t want it to be like this either.

And that’s why he’s hauling his ass onto an empty stretch of a highway in Nebraska with two bunnies over his shoulder for him and Hanzo, presumably still laying there unconscious and pale-faced.

Hanzo.

“Damn it,” he murmurs as reality rushes back to meet him, “Hanzo.” When all he gets from Angela is an inquisitive noise, he sighs. “I’m just thinking ‘bout the bastard,” he admits through gritted teeth.

“I thought he was fine!” Angela whines, McCree being able to hear her old lab chair creaking as she leans forward for her clipboard and folders. However, he decides to interrupt her and spare her the time of reorganizing.  

“He is, he just said a few things and did something stupid.”

“Are you talking a normal person definition of stupid or Hanzo’s definition of stupid?”

“Normal stupid. We can scuttlebutt ‘bout it later.” Angela sucks a breathe from between her teeth, momentarily startling McCree as he was looking for his markings along the trees. “What?”

“That bad, huh? You’re using a lot of sayings.”

“Am I now?” he laughs, finding a moment to marvel at the good doctor’s tendency to pick up his nervous tics. And a moment to push down the sense of embarrassment bubbling forth; idly removing his hat and fanning himself in the heat as in addition to his blush. She hums in agreement, letting herself giggle at the unusual habits of the oddity she called her friend while she shoved the clipboard and patient files back into her desk.

“It sounds real bad, but you said we'll talk later. Don't move- I’m tracking the GPS location of your comm and dispatch immediately.”

“I don't mind sittin' still for ya. Barn is northeast of this point, 'bout a mile.”

“Thank you, Jesse. See you soon!”

* * *

Hanzo wakes to the screech of the barn door accompanied by the thud of their shared meal. His body protested the movement as he rolled onto his side to get a better idea of his surroundings. McCree didn’t seem to notice the shifting from his corner of the room as he was too busy pacing in thought. Occasionally, he would find a moment to stop and ramble to himself as his attention fluttered about.

“Better like this,” he rumbles, sharp end of Hanzo’s hunting knife dropping into the hay bale before he was disappearing outside yet again. Curious, he raises to his knees to peer across the table top.

Two hares stared back at him, eyes glossed over with plump bellies from the farmland.  _ Did McCree… hunt these down himself?  _ Gingerly, he went to pick one up to inspect the animal when he discovered that it’s neck was snapped clean.  _ Impressive, _ he silently praises.

He jolts, head pounding at the horrid cry of the rusted hinges as McCree comes back. He looks absorbed in his work, a bundle of sticks and branches under one arm and a makeshift cup in the free hand.

“Thank you,” Hanzo blurts out before he had a good chance to really process what he was even saying. McCree, spooked like a horse, nearly dropped the cup of water as he finally recognized that the archer had woken up.

“Jesus,” he sighs, clutching the hat atop his head, “ya scared me.” Hanzo chuckled, for the wild eye look died down and was replaced with softer and fonder. It made him nervous.

“My apologies,” he says in another attempt, patting around in the sunbleached straw for his similarly colored scarf, “I am both appreciative and impressed by your hunt.” McCree had to process that. He expected the acknowledgement but he wasn’t braced for Hanzo praising  _ him _ . He beams, smile stretching from ear to ear as he teases the edge of his hat between his fingers.

“D’aw- thank ya, honeypie.” Hanzo scowls at the name out of habit, not quite intending to do so. He actually didn’t immediately know that it was done, but he couldn’t miss the awkward cough as McCree relocated his hat back to his curly locks. Crouching down beside him, Hanzo was offered the water collected the night previous from the heavy rainfall. Weary, he glances at the liquid and what it may contain- only to find the clear liquid to be infested with a maple leaf. He glances up to meet McCree’s gaze, finding the gunslinger to be watching him expectantly until it dawned on him what Hanzo was scrutinizing in his water. Fishing it out himself, Hanzo tosses it to the side before his gaze shot over to McCree after he scoffed.

“A lonesome leaf in it,” he groans in muted disbelief. Hanzo watches the gunslinger over the rim of the ‘cup’ as he drinks out of it, still perplexed about the little outburst. After a good second of drinking it finally occurred to him that McCree genuinely thought he wasn’t going to drink that water because of a leaf.

“I am teasing,” Hanzo says at last after almost snorting his water, “or as I believe you would say, ‘I’m just yanking your chain’.” McCree tries his hardest, but he can’t stifle the laughter bubbling up from his throat. It seems to have mended something, however, but the gunslinger still won’t meet his eyes after that previous slip-up and it stings like salt in the wound. Giggling and snorting like a horse, the archer shares a few moments simply taking in the sight of the other man so happy. His crow and laughter lines more pronounced, the way he smothers his own face with his goofy hat, it all put him in a tailspin.

Once his little giggles died down to nothing more than fluttering breaths here and there, he straightened himself out. McCree runs an idle hand through his hair before setting the hat in place, and Hanzo makes a fix to his earlier note. He most definitely liked to have his hair played with; stressed, tired, hungry, you name it.

“Rescue is on it's way, sugarplum,” McCree murmurs, finding elsewhere for his gaze. Instead, he settles on the tip of the archer’s scarf, gently folded over in his hands and fluttering in the faint breeze. Hanzo’s eyes widened, relief overwhelming him.  _ Finally _ , he was going to get out of this damned barn!

“They are quick, I would not be surprised if it was within the next couple of hours,” he says, frantically tying his hair up into a messy bun. McCree doesn’t move as he springs into motion, downing the rest of the water before jumping to his feet. A little wobbly still, he can work with it. Hanzo admits that he was getting ahead of himself, having only just woken up.

“Sure are,” McCree affirms. Hanzo feels the odd sense of  _ deja vu  _ as he stops what he’s doing and watches the gunslinger for an awfully long moment. He doesn’t budge at first, still firmly rooted to the spot until he rises with a sigh; joints popping as he gets the kinks out in a stretch. “What a waste- the bunnies. At least I had fun gettin’ them”

“I am sure something will enjoy your hunting if not us,” he assures. The simper McCree gives him rubs at him the wrong way but he ignores it in favor of the other’s privacy. If he doesn’t want to directly tell Hanzo what is wrong, he supposes he can handle it on his own. 

No words were shared between them after that, the silence stretching between them becoming painful. Eventually, Hanzo excuses himself to wait outside, blossoming under the sun. The rest and water certainly helped him, even if his complexion was paler than ever. Funnily enough, it didn’t take the evac crew any longer than half hour after landing to find the barn. Lena blinked across the field upon seeing it with Lucio in tow, successfully earning her five bucks (in which the DJ reluctantly handed over) and the title of being the first fresh face in a good while that either of them have seen. And it was a very welcome change of pace the two brought about- her bubbly laugh putting a little pep in McCree’s step and the music put a gentle smile on Hanzo’s face. 

Nothing was asked of the two and they were greeted warmly at the transport ship. Of everything that has happened, it was all coming to an end: he is finally leaving with his mission complete and his teammate back safe and sound even if there was some things uncovered in the process. And yet he still felt like there was something to be done, something left unsaid, and it sat heavy in his stomach on the ride back to Gibraltar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be one last chapter as a follow up to this one. again, sorry for the immensely long wait !


	5. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of all the times of day to confess his feelings, McCree chose the crack of dawn to do it.

Metal knuckles rap against the door, just hard enough to hopefully be heard on the other side. It was just after sunrise and McCree was anxiously rocking back and forth on his heels outside Hanzo’s quarters. He wasn’t even sure the archer would be awake this early, let alone willing to talk. There is a few precious minutes where he can collect his thoughts when he hears shuffling inside and the door opens to reveal a sleepy Hanzo.

“Howdy, did I wake you?” he asks sheepishly, giving his best apologetic smile. Hanzo blinks at him blearily, a little surprised at seeing the gunslinger so bright eyed this early.

“I am afraid so.” McCree’s smile drops a bit, and he leans against the doorway to ease the tension from the air by appearing a little more lax than his brooding look allowed.

“Shoot, honey. Is there a better time?” McCree offers an easy way out for Hanzo.

“Nonsense, spare me a couple minutes to dress,” he insists, gesturing to himself in a lazy sweep. McCree follows the motion down and flushes- he’s only wearing boxers. 

“Right, right,” he coughs awkwardly, “I was thinkin’ we could walk about to wake you up.”

“That sounds good,” Hanzo hums, offering a tiny smile before disappearing into his quarters again. Scouring his drawers for a t-shirt, he finds one suitable enough to wear amongst dress shirts and muscle tops. As for the bottom, he picks the first pair of sweatpants he sees and calls it good. He glances at the glowing blue panel embedded into the wall for the weather outside. Sunny with a few scattered clouds, warmer than usual. The cliffside would be nice during the early morn.

Halfway to the door, he pauses. Looking at McCree now only reminds him of the hungry vampire he saw a little over a month ago; tongue hanging out of his maw at the prospect of getting a bite of him. But piercing red eyes and glinting fangs were now traded for those soft, doe-brown ones and squared off canines. He often found it hard convincing himself the two entities he experienced were one person. 

“My apologies for the wait. Now, where were we?” Hanzo grins when he greets the nervous gunslinger again. McCree chuckles and takes a step back to offer some room besides the doorway.

“Hardly a wait, darlin’. Where to?” Hanzo hums as he fiddles with the ribbon in his hands.

“The cliffside is nice in the mornings.” He nods and falls into step besides the archer as he leads the way. They’re quiet as they walk, aware of the other sleeping agents until McCree can’t put of with Hanzo’s little struggle with his scarf.

“Sugar- hold up. May I?” he offers, stepping in front of the other to bring them to a halt. Hanzo sighs and relaxes his shoulders, holding the yellow ribbon out in defeat.

“Be my guest,” Hanzo mumbles as he rolls his shoulders. There is a crack and a pop when he straightens himself, and McCree momentarily pauses where he is behind him.

“Heh. Didn’t get the mornin’ stretch in, I reckon.”

“Ah, afraid not. We are not as young as we once were,” Hanzo sighs, tilting his head forward as McCree works on his ponytail. With surprising ease, he is able to pull of a decent ponytail in no time flat.

“You can say that twice,” he says once he steps back to admire his work. Taking a step forward, he holds the door open to lead to the gardens. 

“Now, what is it that you would like to discuss?” Hanzo asks as he gratefully dips his head and holds the door in return.

“I was really thinkin’ ‘bout the whole, um… thing.” He frowns and turns to look back at the gunslinger. He isn’t that unfamiliar with how vague this man can be but this just takes the cake.

“The thing?”

“Yeah, y’know-” McCree pulls his lip back just enough on one side to show the slight point of his canine, “this thing.” Hanzo doesn’t say anything for a moment and McCree nibbles at the end of his cigar.

“Ah. I see,” the archer says slowly, focus now back to their little nature walk, “and about it?”

“Just that you were… you were mighty direct back there and I was wonderin’ if there was any feelin’s behind that or not and if there was I was wantin’ to know how long you felt like that and if dinner sounded nice sometime. If… anytime.”

He couldn’t believe Hanzo let him say all of that without interrupting him  _ or  _ slowing his pace. Rather, he seemed invested in his spiel as if he expected a little more at the end. McCree feels his face flush red with just a little bit of embarrassment, staring down at the tips of his boots and the dirt beneath them. 

“Well, I do believe the feelings have persisted for five… six months now. You were a lot to handle when I had first settle down but now...” now Hanzo slows when they reach the cliffside and McCree stops a couple feet away, “I have come to welcome the energy.”

“Shoot, darlin’. Y’er gonna make me blush,” the gunslinger chuckles, relief flooding his body as he comes to stand beside Hanzo. The feelings have been eating him up for a solid month after they have returned.

He was right, it would look beautiful this time of the morning and he’s glad he brought McCree with him.

“I am not finished,” he laughs, “as even though you have more I have yet to uncover, I will welcome and celebrate our differences we find.”

“Hanzo…” McCree coos shyly as he grins like the lovestruck fool he is.

“Dinner would be very, very nice,” he finally concludes with a deep breath. He doesn’t hear anything for a long while and finally glances to the side to catch McCree kicking the dirt the his heel. He has that smile that crinkles his eyes with the force of it and Hanzo can feel his chest swell with adoration.

“Y’er gonna be the death of me,” McCree finally gasps, and Hanzo thinks he’s crying a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QwQ; this is super short but it didn't feel right just leaving it so open ended like that. hope you guys liked it! if you have any suggestions, please comment them or ask me on my tumblr @mattsellla! my anon is on and i'm totally opening to messages about what you want to see in my writing and any prompts you guys want to see!


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